


Denying submergance

by t0talcha0s



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Abuse, Blood, Caliborn is Pharaoh, Heracleionstuck, M/M, Okay so this is an AU that belongs to Alinajames, POV Dirk, Slavery, Violence, and i got really hooked, so i mean here you go, the entire first chapter is just essentially exposition
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-03-28 17:34:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3863410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t0talcha0s/pseuds/t0talcha0s
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>sub·merge: to completely cover or obscure.</p>
<p>Facing circumstances which seem hopeless is to face god and the devil at once. To overcome such circumstances is to spit in the face of both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Upholding grace

**Author's Note:**

> Alright so posts that inspired this can be found here http://alinajames.tumblr.com/post/114532019826/im-too-sexy-for-my-coat-cairo-overcoat-so-sexy-it   
> here: http://alinajames.tumblr.com/post/117629694611/what-is-composition-what-is-clear-artwork-what  
> and the AU basis (with spoilers!) is here: http://alinajames.tumblr.com/post/117802815021/would-you-mind-telling-me-more-about-your

A strong hand pushes you into a room and you head whips back to glare venom at the man who pushed you, but the door is already closed. You’re left in a room with one other guard and the pharaoh. The room is large and grand. Gold columns span the height of the room in vast quantities. Plants sit potted and there’s a platform across from you. It’s made of stone and atop it sits an ornate gold throne. Caliborn sits in the throne and you feel your blood run cold with how he looks at you. Green paint makes his face into a picture of power and terror, and you just straighten your back to be taller and keep your face stony. The minute you do, the guard presses his foot on the back of your calf and a hand on your shoulder, and forces you to your knees. You attempt to wrench your shoulder out of his grasp as you grit your teeth at the pain. Forced to kneel, a sharp pain as the guard dressed in green grinds his foot into your calf. You know why you’re here, you rebelled. You met him in your home of Heracleion, where he was dealing with trade arrangements, and you found later, negotiations for the beginning of war. You’d been called to recite your poetry for him, given he was a guest, and Caliborn’s eyes were on you the entire performance. He found you afterwards, and the two of you talked for a while about the arts. Poetry, music, you both agreed the sculptor the government commissioned is sub-par at best. Caliborn proved an adequate conversationalist and at the end of the night you were offered a position of power in Cairo. While leaving Heracleion seemed unthinkable, it could have been your first step to becoming a large political power, and he did seem to love your poetry. You accepted, however you were half way to Cairo when you heard some startling information. Caliborn wanted you for his harem, and that, that is not something you found acceptable. Telling him such, and attempting to leave subtlety in the night had landed you in your current position. Wrists bound, shackled, a chain around your throat. You sneer at him, still struggling against the grip of the man holding your binds.

“Why hello again, Prince. It seems you will, in fact, be taking a position in my court.” Caliborn’s smirk is darker and you thrust your shoulders foreword again, lips curled in a snarl, orange hair falling in front of your eyes.

“I shall never be a part of your harem, no need to call it what it’s not.” His skin is dark, despite obviously never having suffered a working man’s sun, and he sneers at you. Even with all your work, and performances, and speeches, and time spent outside, you were no more tanned then the day you were born. Instead your skin is mottled with freckles. Your sister always told you you contained the stars in your skin and therefore the gods’ favor. You scoff at the thought and he raises an eyebrow. You tilt your chin up higher in defiance. You are a politician, you are a poet, and there’s a beauty in his anger at your denying him, and that’s just makes your defiance all the sweeter. He’s taller then you, muscles extremely prominent and he’s decked in gold, and green to match his facial design. Green and gold wrist cuffs, green and gold wrapped low on his waist, white fabric flowing below that, a red gem adorning his waist. Around his neck red green and gold stripes lay, red gems fastening the gold placed over his collarbone. It leads to a green and gold headdress, twin snakes settled proudly out of it.

“Oh but we had such a nice time together, your insight of artistry really is impressive.” You recall his listening to you speak your mind of the new wave of painting, and your distaste for it. “You’re ever so eloquent, recite something for me again will you.”

“I will not.” His smirk falters, and anger flashes over his face. You turn your pointed nose up at him and he beckons the guard to bring you foreword. The guard pulls you harshly to your feet and shoves you towards him. Even though the guard holds your hands shackled, and your neck bound like a dog, you shove him away and walk tall and proud towards him. You ascend and stand in front of him as if you held the position of power you no doubt would have been elected into. You’re shoved gracelessly in front of him and you feel a growl in the back of your throat. Caliborn reaches down to take the leash around your neck.

“Tell me that again prince?”

“I will not, pharaoh.” You spit out his title like I burns your mouth and he tugs you towards him. A sickening grin on his face.

“You’ll learn to in time.”

“I won’t.”

“Pitiful defiance will only make it worse.”

“Perhaps, but that enraged look you get is just too satisfying to pass up.”

“You were so eager before.”

“That’s when I had my freedom, and promise of an active political career in Cairo. I’m not, nor will I ever be,” you attempt to jerk away but the grip he has is solid. “Involved in any harem.”

“I wouldn’t be so certain.” His hand not on your chain comes to place itself under your chin and the sheer amount of eye contact makes you cough and look away. His smirk returns and you can’t stand it. With no thought to the consequences, an uncharacteristically rash decision, you spit at him. His eyes close and he takes the hand on your jaw and wipes it off his face, when he opens his eyes their copper-brownness is full of rage. He jerks your lead foreword and slaps you across the face, hard. You feel your lip split, and the ring on his hand cuts into your cheek. A drop of blood falls onto the floor and you marvel at how it looks, pearly and red and you refuse to take it as a sign of defeat. You keep your head down for a minute, letting out a quiet groan of pain. You wish your hands weren’t bound so you could wipe the blood off. Eventually, as you always must do, you raise your head and tilt your chin up. The chuckle Caliborn lets out is low and terrifying. He jerks your leash again until you’re close, face to face. “You bleed the blood of a poet but you act with the vigor of a fool. I’d learn to behave if I were you, prince.” He’s sneering at you, and you want to spit in his damn face again, but a twinge of pain in your cheek reminds you not to. He looks up at the guard decked in green. “Take him away. Get him settled.”

The guard comes over, taking your lead, and the rope around your wrists, and he jerks you to your shaky feet. He practically pulls you down the platform, violently and full of spite. You wrench your wrists back, attempting to throw the guard off balance, but it fails and you find yourself being pulled out of the room as violently as you were pushed in. The hallway is dark, only a lantern in the corner and you can’t help but admit, you’re a bit scared Caliborn will get everything he’s planning. The last thing you see is him crossing his legs with a smirk to destroy nations.


	2. Puzzle pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caliborn gets advice.   
> Roxy runs.   
> Dirk is an unmovable object.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly Heracleion and Thonis are one and the same. Heraclein is the Greek name and Thonis is the Egyptian name.   
> Secondly this chapter is set up strangely because I needed to set the plot up, so it switches views.   
> Five new characters introduced! But it's short so w/e

Your face is still steadily bleeding as you're yanked down the hallway. The rest of the palace is seemingly no less ornate then the throne room. The stone your uncovered feet pad along gets cooler, less used, and soon you're being shoved into a cold, windowless room. You presume you're underground and as the door closes you lunge yourself at it, but the guard in green punches you in the gut, and you're left crouched over on the ground trying to use your cuffed arms to wipe the blood of your face. 

-

Caliborn's golden leg has always suited him, along with the golden tooth, and he especially enjoyed the intimidating sound it made when he walked through the stone corridors of his palace. Sadly, to him anyway, the man behind the door isn't one to be intimidated by him. Caliborn shoves said door open and is immediately faced with an old, white haired, tall, skinny man with a sly smile across his round face. 

"Nice of you to finally show up, Pharaoh." 

"I can still have you executed, Scratch." Caliborn has always had a profound lack of patience, especially when it came to cryptic people, and his war advisor, Dr. Scratch, was nothing if not cryptic.

"That'd be a bit rash don't you think? Especially given we're on the brink of war." 

"Seems like the perfect time." 

"My impending, government mandated death aside, did you work out a deal in Thonis?" Caliborn grits his teeth. 

"There were. Complications." 

"So no?" 

"Complications." Caliborn says again, however more strained. 

"But pharaoh, I have heard word of a special little play thing for you being brought back here to Cairo." Scratch's voice is singsong and forbidden knowledge and it does nothing but piss Caliborn off. He slams a fist against the wall. 

"Damnit Scratch. It does. Not. Matter." 

"But your pretty prince was quite involved in the government wasn't he?" 

"It does not matter."

"I'm not so sure. I'd ask him about it." Regardless of how much Caliborn hates his war advisor, he does seem to always have worthwhile advice. Caliborn's lip turns into a snarl. 

"Have my handmaid fetch Dirk then." 

-

In Heracleion a woman rushes through the city. Her hair is a strange mix of blonde and silver and there's an urgency in her step. Rushing through the streets, shoving aside any passersby that is just too slow for her. She runs past her favorite market, reaching a house, and rudely banging on the door. 

Another woman answerers the door, shorter, plumper, obviously of rich status, hair black and curling around her chin. 

"Roxy, so good to see you out of the pub." Roxy shoves her way, panting, past Jane, resting her hand on the wall, tears pricking at the corners of vibrant pink eyes. A man walks into the room, thick barrel chest and messy black hair that he obviously hadn't bothered to try to fix. 

"Jane you didn't tell me Roxy was coming over for a visit, I would have prepared." Jake, the man, says happily, smiling at the pink-eyed girl. 

"She didn't inform me, not that she's unwelcome." Roxy pants, before straightening up again and giving a gasp. "Roxy...?" Jane asks, hesitant and worried due to the look on Roxy's face. 

"Dirk." 

"Dirk?" Jake raised an eyebrow. 

"What about him?" Questions Jane. 

"Dirk's missing." 

-

The door to your room opens just as you've managed to wipe the blood off your face, and are desperately trying to undo the cuffs keeping your hands bound. Your head swivels to the figure at the door, but it's not the pharaoh as you had expected. It's a woman, tall, slender, well endowed, skin paler then the moon, eyes empty and thin, long black hair in two tendrils reaching down the front of her torso, the rest in a thick bun at the back of her head. She's decked in green, the collar of her dress made of gold and flecked with red and green. So Pharaoh likes his minions dressed similar to his style. She seems pretty high in command, given how she's dressed closer to Caliborn then the guard that shoved you in here. 

"Prince." Her voice is thick with accent from the east. "Lord wishes to speak to you." You get up, shakily on your feet, and take a few steps towards her. A hand that looks delicate, but still holds that underlying power to destroy nations, grabs your leash, and soon you're, luckily gently, being led down the same corridor. So you flip the hair out of your face and walk with your head held high, like the nobility you are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright cool. PLot set up. I'm guessing ya'll can tell where this is going now.   
> The only thing left to introduce is Callie's story.   
> My tumblr's Barefootcosplayer if you wanted to know.


	3. Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You believe you know how to play Caliborn like a fiddle by now, but it seems his war advisor can do the same to you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is no war in ba sing se.

You’re brought, once again, before Caliborn and you notice something different about him. An air of annoyance, patience worn down and you figure now isn’t the time to play games with him. The lovely woman who had brought you to Caliborn goes to stand behind him. She’s taller but he is infinitely more aggressively intimidating.

"Strider.” Not Prince, not some convoluted nickname, it’s almost nice to hear. He beckons you foreword and you reluctantly walk to him, still keeping your head held high like you weren’t a prisoner. “Tell me of the war in Heraclecion.”

“The only war in my city is the one you plan to start.” It comes out with a sneer, and you’re suddenly slapped for it, feeling your lip split again and it’s more annoying then painful. Caliborn seems to feel the same way, the slap was half hearted and his eyes show this is essentially a chore for him.  

"My war is not with Heraclecion lest they refuse to stand beside me.” He looks at the woman. “Fetch Scratch, I’m in no mood to deal with my Prince lest I get angry, and I cannot kill him yet.” The words make your spine stiffen and you figure you may need to ease up on the defiance, but at the same time that means it’s working. The woman walks past you both, long legs swishing the fabric of her skirts and you swear she moves like a phantom. 

"They shall never stand beside you, because they have plans of their own.”  

“Does Heraclecion or do you?”  

“Whether or not my plans deviate from the plans of my city is not for me to say.” The clack of shoes and an amused chuckle behind you has you tensing your shoulders and casting a glance behind you. Your fingers itch to hold your sword. A man stands, pale and tall with a round face seemingly forever imposed with sick amusement.  

"You picked a feisty one Caliborn.” He comes closer to stand behind you and you tilt your chin up and refuse to look at him. “Just your type though and good hair.”  

“I’m not an object to be admired.” He walks past you with a nod, coming to stand besides Caliborn, who shifts away from him. 

 “Oh but you’re certainly admirable. After all prince, you were in good standing to have your city bowing at your feet.”

 “I did not, I do not, strive to rule as dictator.”  

"But you strived to rule.” It’s not a question and you mull over the statement in your mind to formulate a response. You know what they want from you, they want a weakness in Heraclecion to get your city to join them in war, and you can’t allow that. All you want is freedom, to return to your city and see those you know care about you.  

“I strived for what is truly best for my city.” 

“And is that not the current government?” You rail hard, spine stiffening and keeping your mouth firmly closed. Scratch chuckles. “That’s what I thought little Prince.” Your hands ball into fists at your sides but you make no move to harm him. “Seems to me we’ve got a revolutionary on our hands.” 

“I have never planned to overthrow the government of Heraclecion. Merely change it.” 

“Yes my apologies, merely, just an insignificant major shift in the power structure. Tipping the balance all the way over to whom now?” He arches a thick white eyebrow. His eyes are a very vibrant, intense green and they bore into yours making your lip curl a little. However, your eyes are violently orange, flaming and it’s a good match, until you end up looking away. “That’s absolutely what I thought. I’ve heard about you before.” 

"Good to know my reputation precedes me.” 

“Very much so, I also know you may be a huge fan of history, having spent many a year studying it.”

 “You did your research.” You grumble, a tad unhappy that he’s knowledgeable about your life. What is he going to bring up your family discourse and your beloved friends next?  

"Of course I did, that’s what I don't get killed for after all."

 “Scratch your life isn’t secure; get to the point no need for small talk.” Caliborn complains, the woman behind him smirking as she cleans her nails.  

“This isn’t small talk Pharaoh.” That’s true, he knows what he’s doing and you are a bit intimidated, not that you’d let it show. Caliborn grumbles quite a few complaints, and the woman behind him with silent snickers racking her chest. “But I suppose I could get on with it. I'm guessing in your study of history you discovered a few leaders which inspired you." You nod. "And you wished to emulate them no?"

"No." You say, of course you don't, they were unsuccessful. 

"You wish to improve upon their methods." 

"History foresees the future." 

"And does your future stop with ruling Heraclecion?" 

"I don't wish to rule, simply to lead." 

"In what manor?" 

"An optimal one." Scratch laughs an it grates on your nerves. 

"And you serve your city?" 

"I serve myself." You're blunt with him, no use beating around the bush. 

"Then I think you'll be of plenty help to us prince." You look over at him and that grin, stoic yet bordering on vicious is not one that will lead to good things you can tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmao it's been so long my bad, I just had to learn to lower my standards. I've also been busy with my other chapter fic and permanence finishing up and my other series LSPM; also cosplay. I know excuses excuses but long rant short: this story is not forgotten.

**Author's Note:**

> This one's gonna update sporadically which will either be very good or very bad, but i like it so it shouldn't ever be too long between updates.  
> I'm on tumblr at Barefootcosplayer if that interests you,


End file.
